Chapter Five
Vandal
Being with Macy had always been easy. Natural.
Even now, twelve years since we’d last seen each other, it was like we’d spent a thousand lifetimes together.
Like no time at all had passed between us.
I stood at the fridge staring at the contents, hoping the ingredients would somehow turn into a meal.
Macy stood in front of the pantry, eyeballing canned goods and boxed food with a pinched expression.
“Should we just grab hot dogs and ramen?” I bit back a grin and looked at her over my shoulder.
Her face twisted like I just offered her rotten meat. “Not unless we absolutely have to. I always had fun making struggle meals with you, but I don’t miss some of our creative monstrosities.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Yeah, me neither.” I pulled veggies from the crisper. “I’m pretty sure some of that shit shaved a few years off my life.”
“At least your parents kept the fridge stocked,” she said, examining a box of pasta salad I didn’t remember buying. “You ever talk to them?”
I snorted, rolling my eyes as I pulled steaks from the freezer.
“Fuck no. Haven’t seen them since I told them I enlisted.
Dad grunted ‘don’t die’, and that was it.
” I poured two glasses of whiskey and slid one across the counter.
“After that, I spent my leave going wherever I wanted. And when I was out, I picked anywhere but Georgia.”
Macy nodded slowly, eyes drifting off to the past for just a second.
“I spent six months in town waiting to see if you would come back and when I finally realized that wasn’t going to happen, I left too.
Kept Georgia in my rearview.” Her jaw flexed so hard I thought she might crack her teeth.
“My mother died in a car accident about five years ago, I think?” She shook her head as if she still didn’t know what to think about that.
I didn’t sugarcoat shit. Never had. “Shit. I’d say I was sorry but we both know it’d be a lie. I hope that bitch really fucking suffered.”
She let out a shaky breath and an unsteady laugh. “Yeah, me too honestly.”
“You want fries with the steak and vegetables?”
She nodded. “You handle the meat and I’ll handle the rest?”
“Sounds like a plan.” That was as much as we talked about our parents, and then we moved on, cooking together in the kitchen. Chopping and seasoning and laughing as if it was twelve years ago and nothing had changed at all.
We cooked, we ate, and we talked. We caught up on twelve years in pieces, some were funny, some were dark. All of it was real. Macy’s laugh hit me the hardest. It wasn’t carefree like it used to be, but it was still there, low and melodic, buried under the wreckage.
She was stronger than her scars, but she didn’t know it yet.
It was stupid how normal it felt.
How easy it was.
When she yawned so hard her jaw nearly cracked, I started clearing the table before waving her off. “You’ve had a long day.” I stared at her, noticing the dark circles under her eyes were more prominent than I realized. “Go on upstairs, have a hot shower and hit the sack.”
She yawned again, stretching. “What are you gonna do?”
“Straighten the kitchen,” I answered easily. “Check the house before I come up.”
She stood there, hesitant as if she didn’t want to leave me alone.
“Go on, Mace. I’ll be up soon, I swear.”
She nodded, rubbing her arm the way she always did when she was finally starting to relax. “Okay. Goodnight… I mean, not goodnight, but—”
I smirked. “Go, Mace.”
She disappeared upstairs and I cleaned the kitchen, checking every door and window twice before I headed up too. The shower was still running when I reached the top of the stairs, steam drifting out from under the bathroom door. The second the water shut off, I moved towards my room. Our room.
I pulled off my vest and my t-shirt, getting ready for my own shower when Macy stepped in wearing nothing but an oversized towel, still damp, with droplets of water sliding down her collarbone and disappearing beneath the terrycloth.
They appeared again at her thighs, turning my mouth to a fucking desert.
She’d always been beautiful but now she was a goddamn knockout with curves, muscles and strength.
And scars. Too many fucking scars to count.
Some of them were faint, pale lines along her legs and back. Others were newer. Fresher.
Rage burned through me like a fucking lit fuse.
Eventually, I dragged my gaze up to her face, forcing myself not to stare. Too much.
“You sure this is a good idea?” she asked on a whisper.
Hell, no. But I wasn’t backing down. “Yep,” I said, popping the ‘p’ because my brain had stopped functioning temporarily. “Which side of the bed do you want?”
Her violet eyes scanned the room, taking in the nightstand with a few books, a charger and two discarded bottles of water on it and pointing to the opposite one. “That one.”
It was also the furthest from the door. “Good choice.”
“Yeah,” she grinned, rolling her eyes.
When she turned away and bent over the bag at the foot of the bed, I practically ran to the bathroom for the fastest shower of my life.
I washed quickly, before thoughts of Macy in a towel could intrude and lead my hands to my cock—which seemed all kinds of wrong considering she was in the next room.
I soaped up and washed off, toweling off and stepping into my boxer briefs with a heavy sigh.
Okay, bedtime.
I took in a deep breath and crossed the hall to the bedroom. “Fuck that felt good.”
She spun around and looked at me with wide eyes. And red crawling up her cheeks. Her gaze quickly took in all the details as her blush grew.
“Like what you see?” I teased, because if I didn’t break the tension, it would probably strangle us both.
She swallowed hard before looking away. “Last time I saw you without a shirt, there were a lot fewer muscles. And ink. The tattoos, though…” she sighed, “are… beautiful.”
My chest heated and filled with masculine pride. “Thanks.” I laid on the bed, leaving enough space for her. “You gonna be okay with me beside you? After everything?”
She shrugged, her eyes focused on the blinds that covered the window. “He wasn’t violent. It was just that I didn’t fucking want his touch.” She knelt on the bed and then stood up again before she turned around and lay down on her side. Away from me.
I stared at her for a second, at the tension in her shoulders.
The way she held herself so still to avoid taking up space and showing her emotions.
Instinct—deep, old, familiar—kicked in. I crossed the distance between us and curved my body around hers, using the same protective hold I used when her the beatings got too bad. “Is this okay?” I murmured.
She exhaled like she’d been holding her breath a little too long. “Really okay,” she whispered.
Good. I pressed my cheek to hers, inhaling her fresh, familiar scent. “I’m so fucking happy to see you, Mace. Knowing you’re alive makes the whole damn world brighter somehow.” I meant it. Knowing she had survived reminded me that the world could be good.
Sometimes.
She didn’t answer. Her breathing evened out almost immediately, the fastest I’d seen her fall asleep since we were kids.
I wasn’t so lucky. My mind spun on everything she’d been through. Her scars, the ghosts behind her violet eyes, the way she held herself like she expected to be knocked down any second but refused to bend.
The light that wasn’t sure if it wanted to go out completely or burn brighter than ever. I swore to myself that I’d make sure that light never burned out.
Not fucking ever.
Sometime after midnight, I dozed off, but a soft whimper jerked me back awake.
Then another. Then a muffled, strangled scream that ripped through my chest more efficiently than any bullet.
“Mace,” I whispered, keeping my voice gentle as I pulled her tight while she thrashed.
“Hey. Hey, I’m here. You’re safe. Macy. Wake up. ”
She gasped awake, drenched in sweat, eyes wild until they focused on my voice. “Drew?” She panted my name, breathless as if she’d been fighting for her life.
I nodded even though she wasn’t looking at me. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m here. You’re safe,” I sighed and held her a little tighter. “And damp as fuck.”
A startled laugh burst from her lips, small but genuine. “Sorry,” she muttered and tried to slide away from me.
I held her tighter. “Nothin’ to be sorry for,” I assured her. “Stay here. You always slept so good right here.”
With permission granted, she melted into me the way she always had and finally her breathing evened out again.
I didn’t sleep at all after that and I damn sure didn’t loosen my hold on her.
She’d never face another nightmare alone, not while she was under my roof.
Not since she was mine to protect. Again.